The Last Night
by Victoria LeRoux
Summary: It's been a year, but still she smiles at him. Why's he supposed to let go when she's still there? Angsty-Tony, TIVA, Oneshot


Title: The Last Night  
><span>Author<span>: Victoria Leroux  
><span>Rating<span>: T – language and suicidal themes  
><span>Chapter WC<span>: 3665  
><span>Story WC<span>: 3665  
><span>First Written<span>: July 4, 2010  
><span>Last Edited<span>: December 23, 2011  
><span>Posted<span>: December 23, 2011  
><span>Disclaimer<span>: This is a work of fiction. This work has not been endorsed by any holding copyright or license to the TV series _NCIS_. No connection is implied or should be inferred. Other names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author receives no financial gain from its production or distribution.

Summary: It's been a year, and still she smiles at him. Sometimes, you just have to let go, but how do you do that when you can only hold on tighter? Angsty-Tony, TIVA

Author's Sanity Update: As you can see, I started this fic well over a year ago. Almost a year and a half, really. I never actually thought I'd finish it, then I heard the song _Safe and Sound, _(Taylor Swift/Civil Wars) which was just released pre-Hunger Games movie (it's on the soundtrack) So I threw the brakes on my PJO and Inception fic, and scrambled back to this one. So I went back, skimmed the first 2000 words, smacked an ending on it and a quote at the front. Looking over it, I can see how much my writings changed. I left it the way it used to be though, with only a few minor clean ups.

Whew! It's been forever since I've posted anything. I've been writing _tons_ though… so expect better quality stuff to be up here soon.

This is AU. It takes place a year after Somalia. Reviews are adored. Have a happy Hanukkah, Christmas, Boxing Day, New Years, and Yule.

_I remember tears streaming down your face  
>When I said I'll never let you go<br>When all those shadows almost killed your light.  
>I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone,"<br>But all that's dead and gone and past tonight._

_-Safe and Sound, Taylor Swift ft. Civil Wars_

_He grins at her and says something cheeky that just causes her to sigh and glances away uncertainly before she retorts something back to him. A laughing McGee looks on, but they're interrupted as their leader rushes by calmly._

"_Grab your gear, we got a body," he says, and the teams stands, brushing their silly squabble aside as the present takes over._

Tony sighed, gulping down the bottle again. He tossed the glass aside, hearing it shatter against the wall. He cursed quietly at the sound, knowing that he'll have to clean it up in the morning when he's sober.

Ziva lay on the couch beside him calmly as she watched him gulp down dreg after dreg of the worst alcohol imaginable. "You are going to feel horrible in the morning," she advised and he just shrugged, ignoring her as he drained another glass.

"It'll be worth it," he snapped and she shrugged, knowing he'd regret it in the morning when Gibbs stormed in at six for their day with McGee, Abby, Ducky and Palmer. The six would wander around town, and instead of doing what they did before Somalia, namely barhop and watch movies, they'd probably go eat at a restaurant or visit the racetrack and gamble. Tony watched Ziva lounge beside him, her form blurring slightly as the alcohol swam through his system.

_He sees her limp body, and the pool of blood. He turns in rage at the person who had caused her pain, as Tony still recalls the desperation in her fire-filled eyes, but he's too busy being trapped in place to help. All he can do is wait for Gibbs to come and find them, hope that Gibbs gets here in time._

"Go to sleep," she told him, longing to reach out and brush his hair out of his eyes. She knows she can't do it though; it would cross too many lines that were too hard to scramble over. He'd watch her with more pain than he did already, and she knew that it would only harm him more.

He sighed at her words, and lazily dropped the bottle on the ground, he grinned drunkenly as he heard the glass crack, and he staggered into his room, calling out behind him, "I don't suppose you'll pick it up?" he didn't receive an answer, because she was gone.

"_No, please, kill me, leave her alone!" he sobs, and merciless eyes stare back at him. He knows no emotion but hate is staring back at him, and he stares right back at it, knowing nothing he can say will save her. Bloodshot eyes stare back at him, and he looks away to meet her gaze as the gun goes off. She's the one to look away, because now she's trying to stop the blood from dripping onto the ground._

"_Don't leave me here alone," he asked her. A small smile came over her face, and she nodded – a slight movement, but enough for them._

In the morning, he was met with a hangover and Abby sweeping up the glass. He blinked at her as he asked in confusion, "When did I let you in?"

She shrugged and gave him a quiet, "You didn't." Tony noticed her lack of make-up, and shook his head, realizing that she was still worried over him like she always had been since Somalia.

"Abby," he began, and she looked at him through still-solemn eyes. He paused, and restarted what he was going to say. "I need a hug," he said, and Abby paused in her sweeping up of broken glass. She jumped forward eagerly, throwing her arms around him.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, and he shrugged.

"You haven't done anything wrong," he said, and he felt Ziva's presence behind him. She was always there. He turned his head slightly and gave her a grin over Abby's head. She nodded to him quietly, as Gibbs brushed in. Tony transferred his gaze to Gibbs, who just stared at him for a moment, then shrugged.

"Are you ready?" he asked, and Tony shook his head.

"Let me change," he answered quietly and went back into his bedroom, Ziva following quietly behind him.

"When are you going to tell them?" she asked quietly, her accent pronounced more because of the depth of emotion in her voice.

"Tell them what?" he asked absentmindedly as he dropped his clothes on the floor. She glared at him accusingly and he shrugged nonchalantly, "You mean the fact that I see you die every night in my dreams?"

"Not just that," she muttered as he looked away.

"Not yet," he said, shrugging once again as he pulled his shirt on, the fabric cheaper than anything he would have worn just over a year ago. A ratty pair of pants followed the cheap shirt, and instead of walking outside, he turned to stare at Ziva. "They'd just send me to the mental hospital."

"They'd want to know…" she trailed off and he shot her a glare that she ignored. "Just saying," she said defensively, and he glanced away, speaking softly.

"You've changed since-" he was cut off by the door opening as Ducky peered in.

"They're all waiting for you," Doctor Mallard said, and Tony nodded, a single jerking movement of his head.

"I'm coming," he said, and paused. Before he could regret what he was blurting out, he told Ducky quickly, and added, "I've been drinking again."

"Yes, you have, my dear boy," Ducky told him, his tone soft and kind. "It upsets Abby. The poor girl wants to do something for you, but you're just making it worse."

Tony snapped his head up, looking defensive. "I didn't ask for help!" he growled, and Ducky sighed.

"Tony," Ziva warned and Tony fell silent for a moment.

"Sorry Ducky," Tony muttered, standing up.

"You've been under a great deal of pressure," the doctor said soothingly. "But don't you think it's time to let go?"

Tony stared at the doctor, shocked into silence. "Ducky," he began, but shook his head. "No, it's not right," he trailed off. "I can't just _let go_. I'm not ready," he said softly, and his companion nodded, sighing again as he watched the conflict in his eyes. Tony shot a glance to Ziva, but she didn't say a thing. Instead, she just wanted to hear his explanation. ""Ducky, I'm just not ready," he said again and she sighed at those few small words.

"She would have wanted-" Ducky began again, and Tony massaged his temples as he interrupted Ducky.

"Don't say that," his voice was tense, hard, and to his surprise, _sad_.

Ducky nodded slowly, hearing the truth in his tone. "Very well, Anthony," the older man sat and watched Tony gnaw on his lip. "Will you be joining us?" he asked DiNozzo, and the latter nodded slowly. Ducky took that to mean the end of their conversation and he walked out the door, leaving Tony sitting alone in the room, staring at the wall.

"Well, who wants to bet that Abby will hug me?" Tony asked into the empty air before opening his door and walking out to face the crowd that had gathered in his house. When he managed to make his way into the living room, he noticed the room was clean. He stared at Abby, who just gazed back at him with a slight smile. "Thanks Abs," he told her and she grinned at the small praise.

"No problem!" she chirped cheerfully. "You should come by the office more," she suggested, but his face closed and she bit her lip as she realized she had overstepped a line. "To visit us," she added hastily.

"Soon," he hedged quickly, and she nodded.

"Well, I tried!" she told him cheerfully, and he had to smile in return. Ever since he had returned from Somalia, he had been more and more distracted. He had quit his job at NCIS after a botched protection detail. Tony smiled, and shook his head, knowing the grin was forced.

"You know, it's Ziva's birthday today," Abby began, and Tony widened his eyes before glancing at Ziva, who hung back from the group, shadowing Tony.

"Well, happy birthday then," he forced the words through frozen lips.

Abby stared at him for a moment, than she eventually shrugged. "I'll be by tomorrow, so don't be hungover then, 'kay?"

"Sure Abby," he promised, but the lie fell flat on his lips. "I'll visit you at the office soon," he grumbled, and she brightened.

"Thanks Tony!" she chirped and he glanced away guiltily as they filed out the door. When they were gone, he flopped himself on his couch, thinking quietly as he stared at Ziva.

"They care about you, you know," Ziva's voice broke the silence after only a few moments.

"Yeah," Tony mumbled agreement, his legs swinging off the couch as he contemplated. "I've noticed. Every weekend, like clockwork they come by to make sure I'm still sane."

"You should try going back to the office sometime," she suggested without any real emotion.

"I bet it's boring watching me mope around, huh?" Tony asked, self-derision in his tone. "I lost my job. I'll go back when you do."

"So, never?" Ziva asked, sounding teasing.

"Yeah, something like that."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes.

"I kinda miss being on the ship," Tony told her honestly.

"The ship? You hated that Vance sent you there," Ziva was giving him a strange look.

"I guess," he agreed reluctantly. "But at least we could send emails, keep in touch like that. Gibbs wasn't as closed off, Abby would still put on a smile and play crappy music, McGee still wrote his books, and you… Maybe I just miss the solitude."

"Solitude? Stuffed on a ship with a bunch of Navy men? Sounds like you need a revaluation," she laughed. He didn't need to open his eyes to see her amusement.

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

The phone rang, and Tony reluctantly picked it up.

"_Anthony, will you be able to attend supper with us tomorrow? Five o'clock as normal, of course," _Ducky's voice, as elegant and polished as ever held the ever present note of concern.

Sometimes Tony didn't get it. They tiptoed around him like he was about to shatter, when nothing was really wrong. He took a few drinks ever now and then, sure, but it wasn't going to kill him.

"Yeah, I'll be there, Ducky," he said at last. It's not like anyone else ever invited him to dinner.

"_How are you holding up? It is her birthday, after all?"_

Tony sighed. He should have been expecting that one. He must have been more withdrawn than normal earlier, or else Duck wouldn't be asking him how he was.

"I'm good, Duck. Any reason why I shouldn't be?"

The doctor paused for a moment, as if to disagree. _"It's too nice a day to stay inside,"_ the lie was obvious – it was going to rain soon. "_Why don't you go visit Kate?"_

A pause, and Tony found his hands shaking. He mumbled some half-assed excuse, and hung up, body shaking.

It took a few moments, but at last he regained his composure.

"I guess I should visit Kate," Tony mumbled. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" he didn't need her nod to know the truth. He had been neglecting visiting Kate's grave because the entire graveyard brought back too many memories. Tony glanced away from Ziva, and he knew that the Israeli was already gone. Tony shook his head and exited the car, casually locking the door behind him. He slipped into his car and pressed the gas down, driving recklessly.

It took him a few hours, and he casually turned into the cemetery drive and parked, feeling his throat choke up. "I can't do this." He choked out, and heard Ziva's amused laugh behind him. He clung to that sound, and fought off the memories that he had surging through his brain, of two different women that had drawn his attention.

"Tony," Ziva said disapprovingly and the name made him turn. He already had known she was there, because he had sensed her presence lingering there for some time. "It's been over a year. Pull yourself together," she ordered, and he gave a deep sigh as he made his way out of the car, closing the door gently behind him. Ziva dogged his footsteps as he plodded through the grass.

Tony knelt before the grave, pulling the gathered weeds out as he dropped some flowers in front of the tombstone. He briefly glanced at Kate's tombstone before staring up at Ziva. "Happy birthday," he told her, and she smiled quietly.

"Thanks Tony," she responded, and he shook his head at her before turning away.

"Most people are happy on their birthdays. Sorry I couldn't get you anything," he trailed off as she burst into laughter.

"Most people get older on their birthdays," she responded, and Tony glanced at the tombstone beside Kate's. "And can actually appreciate their presents."

Tony stood and walked over to the other tombstone, gently tracing his fingers along the letters as he placed some flowers in front of the grave.

_Ziva David_

"So am I crazy?" he asked, and she smiled sweetly at him, but the look didn't reach her eyes, which remained sad and solemn.

"No, not really," she evaded and Tony didn't know why he felt relieved that a hallucination was telling him he wasn't crazy.

"Then what am I? I'm talking to a hallucination. You appear whenever I say your name. You're dead, but I still talk to you. I've been seeing _and_ talking to you since the funeral. I talk, and you _answer._ How can I not be crazy?" he snapped, and she withdrew slightly, tensing at his reaction. "Why do you even hang around?" his tone was bitter now, a trace of anger appearing around the rough edges.

"You need me," she told him simply, and Tony glanced at her, sorrow shading into his solemn gaze.

"Do I?" he murmured, his fingers yanking out some more weeds. "I suppose I do, really. Guess I really just couldn't live without you," he murmured.

Ziva sighed and followed him as he stood. For a second, he thought she wasn't going to say a thing. "Looks like it might rain tonight," she said conversationally, and he laughed, more bitter and angry then before.

"It's been raining since Somalia," he phrased it metaphorically, and she resisted the urge to reach out and Gibbs slap him, knowing that if she touched him, she'd vanish because she was denied that one comfort. Instead, she just stuck around, seeing the brutal deaths that occurred around them.

She was right, Tony noted, as rain began to fall on his way back to the car. His shirt was already sticking to him, the humidity heavier than normal. He grunted as he unlocked the car door and glanced at the grave, knowing what he was going home to do.

He entered his apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind him. Outside, thunder crashed and lightening sliced through the bright night sky. Tony gave a dejected sigh, and glanced at her.

"Are you going to disappear on me?" he asked her, completely sober as he met her gaze.

"You must let me go," she told him, her voice soft. He gave her a glare, than it relaxed, disappearing into a strained smile.

"If I let you go, I take it you won't mind if I follow you?" Tony met Ziva's gaze, and sudden anxiety flashed across her face. She didn't say a thing, and he knew that was confirmation enough. "See you in… wherever the hell you are," he told her, then searched for a fitting movie quote. "Damn, can't think of a suitable one. Die Hard maybe? 'Come out to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs'?"

He met her look of pain with the sweetest, most open smile he had ever mustered for her, reached below his bed, and slipped his fingers over the cool metal.

Tony raised the cool barrel, and paused for a moment, giving a slight note of hesitation that would only be noticed by a ghostly specter that sat near his bed.

"See ya around," he told her, and her eyes widened.

"Tony-" her voice was soft and quiet, pain in the name.

"Not now, Ziva. Not now," he'd tried this before, but he never seemed to be able to let go.

"If not now, then when?" she challenged. "Before or after you kill yourself?"

The words struck home, and he hesitated again, the gun wavering. Sighing, he laid the gun down on his lap and closed his eyes. He didn't want to look at her – didn't want to see the pleading in her eyes.

He would listen though.

"You have plenty to live for," Ziva said patiently. "You have your teammates, your family, your friends-"

"Save me the speech," Tony snapped. "You've said it all before. This time John Wayne does not walk off into the sunset with Grace Kelly."

"That was Gary Cooper, asshole," Ziva responded, the quote falling easily from her lips.

Tony's eyes did open at that, and he stared at her, confused.

"When did you see-"

"Die Hard?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "I did not, but you did."

"Wha- oh. I remember, hallucination," he sounded more than a little bitter. Ziva slipped closer to him, and her hand hovered just a few centimeters from above him. "That's right."

The gun began to quiver in his hand as he raised it once again. His skin passed through Ziva's, meeting no resistance.

"Please-" she asked, her eyes still full of anguish.

"No," the single word fell, steely and cold.

The phone rang..

Once.

Twice.

He ignored it.

The rain began to fall harder, lightning and thunder racing to the sky.

Now, or he would fail once again. He would be forced to leave the gun under the bed and be ever-reminded of his constant failure.

_Crack._


End file.
